Maelstrom
by horthbynorthwest
Summary: Set before the series, before the group's been set up. Cal & Gill have already lost/left their jobs at the Pentagon and both marriages have already ended. In need of something new this is the story of what they go looking for.
1. Chapter 1

**Normal Disclaimers apply.**

* * *

Cal was nervously shuffling around the kitchenette of his tiny one bedroom apartment, over stirring his sauce, simply in need of something to keep his hands busy. Tonight was important, so important that if it didn't go the way he needed it to it would be enough to break him. The last twelve months had robbed him of his family, his home and his job, in fact the only things he had to his name were his science and his best friend, who was on her way over. And if she turned him down too – No. He couldn't think like that, he had to think positively.

Turning the heat down, he padded to his bathroom to calm himself down. He splashed water on his face, griped the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, the water trickling down his face made him look like he was crying.

"Pull yourself together, Lightman. Stop being soft." He aggressively wiped the water away from his face, "This isn't the time to be scared. She's your friend; she's had a rough couple of months too, she's not going to say no. She knows you want to ask her something, just be nice, have a nice dinner, laugh and then ask. Now, go and get changed and be yourself."

He sighed again. He didn't sound convinced to his own ears. He didn't know how he was going to try and convince Gill who made her salt and bread on picking up on vocal tremors.

* * *

An hour later, when the door bell rang, Cal was full in the grip of panic. His sauce was over reduced, his pasta was burnt (he'd managed to set the first batch on fire and the second batch he'd managed to obliterate to the point of inedibility), he'd gone through three sets of shirts – two being ditched because they were either too casual or too smart – the latest having been discarded because he'd inadvertently thrown sauce down it in a last ditch attempt to save it and therefore he was currently standing topless in his kitchen which looked like a bomb had gone off. And now Gillian was here. Time to go for comedy.

With as much of a grin as he could muster, Cal swung the door open, leaning against the frame. Gillian's bubble of laughter was everything he ever wanted to hear. It helped to dislodge some of that horrible tension that had settled over his chest throughout the day; it didn't matter that he was standing in front of his best friend in only jeans and the flowery apron she'd bought him as a joke the month before hand. She accepted the proffered glass of wine and stepped into his pit of chaos.

Cal closed the door, leaning his head on it as Gillian walked into his kitchen. Groaning as the spluttered noise of Gill spitting her wine out filtered down the hall.

"Cal! What… what happened?!" Gillian asked when Cal finally made his way to join her.

"Um, I had a bit of an accident?" he mumbled, looking decidedly sheepish.

"But… but…" she looked momentarily lost for words.

A grin blossomed across Cal's face, "Not very often you don't have a reply, luv."

"Cal!" she glared, then giggled "You're such a good cook, how did this happen?" She gestured round the partially destroyed kitchen.

He shrugged "I have a lot riding on this dinner tonight," he stated simply "Let me just grab a clean shirt and I'll take you out." And with that he spun on his heels and left her with the debris.

Completely at a loss, she just stared after him, until his bedroom door closed. The kitchen was a state: pots and pans everywhere, the smell of burnt onions and tomatoes filled the room, bits of vegetable, sauce and pasta littered the floor.

_The only thing missing was a broken glass_, she thought to herself, _oh wait, there's one in the sink_.

This was very unlike Cal's pristine cooking style; something must've really gotten him rattled. She'd gathered that this evening carried some weight for him because he'd been so sweetly nervous when asking her, which was strange seeing as they ate together at least three times a week as it was. As to what it was, she didn't have a clue. She prayed his intentions weren't romantic though, as much as they were getting closer, both of them were still hurting from their respective divorces, with not enough time to heal all the wounds that sort of fighting leaves. Let alone enough time for Em to come to terms with it.

Cal cleared his throat. He was standing there in a deep blue dress shirt and jeans, matching her simple, but form fitting dress.

"You really are a sight for sore eyes, darlin'" she blushed slightly, "you ready to go?"

"Thai?"

"Your wish is my command, luv." He confirmed with a flourish.

* * *

"Come on, Cal. Tell me what tonight's really been about," Gillian demanded. He'd survived the whole car journey and most of the starters, but now he was getting antsy. Like a nervous kid, but with Lightman's never ending blustery energy. Gill was getting exhausted just watching him.

He made some sort of noise as if to tell her that he had no clue what she was talking about.

Gillian's eyebrow shot somewhere into her hairline "Cal, you have been jittery since this afternoon, we would be eating at your apartment if you weren't so jumpy today!"

"Ever thought that maybe I thought you deserved being taken out for a proper meal." Cal squeaked, gesturing wildly.

"Cal,"

He sighed. "I have a question to ask you, but I don't want you to feel pressured to say yes because we're friends. I want you to take your time, not rush into it, you know, figure out what you want."

"Cal, use your words." Though Cal could see the slight smile creeping in around her eyes.

"I'm writing a book." Gillian could have laughed at the shocked look on Cal's face, as if the words had come out completely unbidden.

"Oh, is that right?"

"Yes, and I'm going to go away. For research. For six months."

He looked fit to burst, Gill considered towing this out a little longer, because apparently this genius was going to need some help. Then he flashed her a look of pure panic and she caved.

"And? This has what exactly to do with me?" her head tilted, her face open. She really had no clue, and for some reason that calmed Cal. She wasn't playing him.

"I want you to come with me." His stomach had finally stopped squirming, there was nothing more he could do.

"That's insane!" she squeaked, her arms started flapping.

"Is it? Think about it, Gillian. You're learning the science, neither of us have a family to think about any more, both of us are out of a meaningful job. I've already got the publishers onside for us to be co-writers, and the forward is enough to cover the trip and to start up a company when we get back. We're solid. We can do this."

Gillian was flabbergast. Somewhere in that block of Cal's selling point he'd reached across the table and entangled his hands with hers, his eyes were imploring her. _Say yes, please say yes_, they said. She was speechless. She hadn't seen that coming, she didn't know what she had expected, but this wasn't it. She didn't know the science, pure and simple, how was she supposed to co-write a book?! And be away for six months?

Cal was right though, with the collapse of her marriage and loss of her job, she had nothing that actively kept her in the city. In fact, in the last six months the only thing that kept her leaving the city was her newfound friendship with Cal.

"But I don't know anything, Cal!" her voice raising another octave.

He actually chuckled at that "says the woman with the PhD!"

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but he beat her to it.

"Gill, I'm serious. You're more than smart enough, you intuitively understand people, you're already making ground on vocal analysis, but more importantly I need you to keep me from going crazy out there. I need my touchstone and I need my best friend. Gill, luv, please, I'm begging."

For the first time in a long time he caught her eyes sparkling and grinned knowing her answer before she opened her mouth.

"Where are we going?"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Normal Disclaimers apply**

* * *

This last month had been exhausting for both of them and contained an ungodly amount of paperwork, yet there was no end in sight. The list of things to do before they finally made their way to the Peruvian Amazon was seemingly endless. Gear needed to be bought, injections had, lives packed away, apartments left, flights needed to be booked, contacts needed to be made, backup plans needed to be put in place, languages needed to be learnt. And to top it all off it didn't seem real, it all felt like a blur, the fact that in a week Gillian would be packing her bags and heading to the rainforest for six months with her best friend hadn't sunk in. Not that she hadn't taken steps, she'd left her part time job, had packed up and left her apartment that afternoon and all but moved into Cal's office. But somehow this felt like some cruel joke, one last set up that the cosmos would surely pull away from her at the last possible moment and leave her with nothing. But this was Cal – infuriatingly, always there, even when she doesn't need or want him to be, Cal – there was no way he'd let that happen.

And here they were having collapsed onto the sofa, Gillian at one end with her legs curled underneath her and Cal sitting squarely in the middle, an unmoveable physical presence, always brushing against her in someway. _Grounding_ she labelled it, it certainly wasn't inappropriate or unwelcomed, just solid. Both were quiet and lost in thought, each nursing a glass of scotch. Cal's head lay on the back of the sofa, eyes closed, seemingly happy to just be; Gillian was looking around his living room – or was it theirs now? – adorned with a strange combination of his and her belongings.

About two thirds of the way through her glass, Gillian started to panic. She'd moved in with Cal – into his tiny one bedroom apartment. This started the beginning of not having any space from him for the next six months, and frankly that was terrifying. There would be no calm respite, no lazy days to herself, she'd be left with the crazy, intense buzz of energy that Cal carried around with him always, like a coiled spring. It was only after she'd given up her own space did she realise just how much she craved it, she'd given up stability for something that might not pay off. She wasn't ready, _oh God, I'm not ready for this_.

No matter how much she hoped that Cal wouldn't notice her increasing state of panic, the man read micro-expressions for a living and she was definitely projecting panic through her whole body. As if reading her mind, Cal blindly reached out and landed a hand on her knee, stroking downward to end with a squeeze at her foot, his head twisted towards her but his eyelids remained closed.

"You're panicking pretty loudly over there. What's wrong?" his voice a low rumble, soothing.

"It's nothing." Gillian winced, her voice sounded weak and reedy, hitching halfway through. _Great, now he's not going to leave it alone_.

He's eyes snapped open, concern etched around his eyes. "Foster, you can tell me…"

"Promise me you won't launch into a lecture," she mumbled looking into her glass, "please just respect what I'm feeling."

He was visibly wriggling, trying to figure out what was bothering his best friend, who even in her own misery looked gorgeous, _NOT the time, Cal_. Finally managing to get control of himself, he lent forward, almost resting on Gillian's knees, got a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look him in the eyes. _Oh great, she's almost crying, way to bollix this up so early – you haven't even left yet. Or shared the apartment for 12 hours. Smooth, Lightman._

"Gillian, luv, whatever it is, you can tell me. We're going to be together for the best part of six months, telling half truths will be the death of us."

He sounded so sincere that it made her feel even worse about her doubts, she broke eye contact, squeezing her eyelids shut willing her tears to not fall.

"I have doubts too, luv. D'you want me to start?" His head was ducking as much as possible to keep eye contact with her. An imperceptible head movement, which he took for a nod and he continued, "I'm terrified that I've messed this up, not left us with enough time to prepare. I don't care so much what happens to me, I own this place, so I'm safe even if I come back stone cold broke. But I'm very, very aware that I'm not the only one relying on this. You've given up so much more to do this than me, your apartment, your job. You've placed your future in my hands, your faith in my science and I'm terrified that I'll fail you. But, despite all of that fear, I'm excited. I get to go and solidify my science, and I get to do it with my best friend."

The tears that had threaten to fall before were now falling freely, though they had transformed from those born of panic to those born out of shocked joy. Of course Cal was thinking ahead, of course he was scared, but being the emotionally stunted shell of a man that his divorce had made him, he had simply neglected to show her. She sniffed, wiping away her tears, calmed by his admittance. She was, however, annoyed at him for hiding this from her, annoyed that he felt the need to be strong for her. She nearly snapped at him until she realised that, equally hurt by the recent demise of her marriage, she had done the same thing. This partnership thing obviously needed work.

"I wasn't trying to make you cry, darlin', I was trying to get you to stop!" Cal exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.

Gillian chuckled at this, "They're happy tears, Cal," his head cocked, confused, "I thought I was the only one having doubts. I don't feel like I'm ready, intellectually or emotionally. It's all been a blur, and I was scared that you were just rushing into this and that I was being swept along with it. I just realised that we're going to be in contact almost constantly for six months and the idea that I couldn't show you what I'm feeling, that I would have to hide that in order to protect my best friend? That almost broke me."

Cal said nothing, but nodded thoughtfully. He pulled Gillian gently so that she settled against his side, holding her close. Kissing the top of her head he spoke into her hair, "I'm sorry, Gillian. You're right, of course. If this is going to work in the long term we have to be comfortable in telling each other how it is. Not just as friends but as business and science partners. If it's ever a choice between truth and happiness you know where I stand."

"Truth or happiness, never both," Gillian mocked, "You're such a cynic, Cal. We can have both, if we're honest."

A squeeze served as her answer. In some respects he was much more like the monkeys they were planning on studying – more reliant on physicality than words.

"Use your words," Gillian sing-songed, almost laughing again, her panic all but forgotten.

The arm not wrapped around Gillian's shoulders flapped around a bit and he pulled a pained face, making her laugh more so. He could feel the vibrations of her trying to hold it back against his side and cocked his head to the side to see her face, smiling softly.

"I'm glad you're coming with me, luv."

* * *

The air hung, still and heavy around them, making it hard to move, like they were trapped in amber. The emotional release having removed the shoulder clenching tension of underlying panic, had replaced it with a blanket-like warmth, one that made all movement seem unnecessary. Both of them revelled in the feeling that had been oh, so absent in recent months, bringing them closer together, adding more blocks to their friendship.

Minutes passed and slowly that blanket of silence started to become awkward, the need to break it became almost painful, yet neither of them wanted to be the first to speak. It was Gillian that broke first, not vocally but she abruptly sat up and headed towards the kitchen.

Cal looked bemused, following her with his eyes before finally calling out, "Oi! Foster, what you doing in my kitchen?!"

"Ice cream!" came the disembodied reply.

"Ice cream." Cal mutters to himself in disbelief before raising his voice, "But we've got scotch! What do you need ice cream for?"

"Oh, Cal. When do I need an excuse for ice cream?" she said returning to the living room with a carton of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food, spoons and bowls. She settled back at her end, legs crossed before divvying up her ill-gotten gains. He accepts the smaller bowl with reverence, as you would from a child, laughing at the child-like manner with which Gillian dived into hers.

Despite his bowl being smaller, he ate his in the same time it took Gillian to devour three, her scotch slowly being nursed in the interim between each bowl. The slow burn a glorious contrast to the icy cold, the combination of which soon had them both slipping into a state of sleep. It was only when Cal fell asleep briefly only to bolt awake when his bowl shattered on the floor. The magic of ice cream and scotch had been dispelled and the two friends rushed to clean up the mess.

After clearing everything up, Cal stood awkwardly in his kitchen, not quite sure what to do with himself. Of course she's not his guest any more so he should stop hovering, but it's her first night in their space and he wants her to feel comfortable.

"Um, Gillian, luv?"

She makes eye contact and smiles, "Yes, Cal?"

"You got everything you need? I was just gonna head to bed," He gestures behind him and trails off.

"Yes, I'll be fine thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded and stalked out of the kitchen.

"Oh, and Cal?" Gillian called to his back.

He leant round the kitchen door, so only his head and shoulders were visible, "Yes, luv?"

"I'm really glad you asked me to go with you."

That crooked smile lit up his face.

"Me too, luv. Me too."

**TBC**

**A/N: Reviews are always welcome, let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the delay between updates, real life got in the way and then muse abandoned me. Not feeling too happy with this chapter, but I just wanted to get it out, I might come back and edit it later. Enjoy.**

* * *

It was the night before travel day and Cal & Gillian's tiny space was filled with a coiled energy. It was scarily empty as most of their gear was already on its way down to Peru, they would meet it at the port along with their contact, Natanael, before boarding the boat for the last two-day boat journey into the Amazon.

Cal, as usual, was unbearable. He was twitchy and nervous and much to Gillian's annoyance he was listing, out loud, all the things they'd done trying to work out what they'd missed. Much more pragmatically, she had already sorted everything out. Both bags were packed and by the door, the exception being their day bags which stayed in their rooms. She had both their passports and travel documents with her, because Cal would probably leave them on the kitchenette table in his current ruffled state.

Their flight was early the next morning, so an early night would be key, the last thing they needed would be to start their journey tired, but that was looking less and less likely as it was 10pm and Cal had upgraded to pacing round the tiny apartment. With a heavy sigh, Gillian walked into the kitchen busying herself before returning with a large triple scotch in one hand.

"Here," she said offering Cal the scotch, "drink this and shut up. You're driving me crazy."

Cal at least had the decency to look sheepish, "Sorry, luv, I can't shake the feeling that I've forgotten something…"

Gillian smiled at this, since moving in a week ago, she'd found her ability to predict what Cal would forget had been honed to a fine skill, like she'd been doing it for years, not days.

"It's just nerves, Cal."

"I know, luv, I just can't seem to shut off, you know?" he sounded exhausted.

"Sit." Gillian commanded, pointing at the opposite end of the sofa. He did, swinging his legs to face her. He looked at her like a deliberate caricature of a puppy, waiting for her to tell him what to do next. She giggled, "Turn round, Cal. And take off your shirt."

"Oh, aye, aye," He chuckled, a cheeky grin lighting up his face.

When she didn't respond he raised an eyebrow in question, but obliged turning round, pulling his shirt over his head so he was just sitting in his undershirt. Gillian shuffled forward, reaching out her hands to touch his back. He nearly jumped a mile when she touched him.

"Jesus, Foster!" he exclaimed, "Warn a man! I almost spilled my scotch!"

"But you didn't, so shut up and stay put. If you don't relax you're not going to sleep." Gillian chided.

Her hands went back to his shoulders and started rubbing small circles with her thumbs. Cal relaxed against her hands, letting her thumbs zone in on the knots buried in his shoulders. A little more pressure and she had Cal groaning and leaning forward to give her more access to his back, which Gillian took as a hint, her hands moving lower to the centre of his back and adding more and more pressure. He shifted again, putting his scotch glass down, laying his head on his crossed arms. Continuing the movements of her hands she could feel the tension of the last month seep out of him, he become loose limbed, almost gooey.

Soon, his breathing slowed and became rhythmic, and he shifted round onto his side and stretched out along the sofa. With the tension gone, Cal had drifted into the deepest of sleeps, reserved only for the truly exhausted who finally give in to their body's desire. She didn't have the heart to wake him up to move him to bed, so she simply retrieved his duvet from his room, draping it over his slumped form.

"Good night, Cal." She whispered as she left the room.

* * *

That morning had been a whirlwind; a rushed exit out of the apartment that almost meant they missed the cab, therefore almost missing their flight, they had to be rushed through security and run to the gate. By the time they got on the plane, neither of them were particularly happy with the either, resulting in some sort of stony silence.

Cal was seething, his neck ached from falling asleep on the sofa, so first of the bat he'd snapped at Foster for letting him sleep there, then he'd shouted at her for not waking him up earlier. Everything that went wrong that morning had been her fault, and even when he'd woken up enough to realise it wasn't he couldn't stop doing it. Now she was sitting next to him, with a cold stare on her face, so unlike her. She wasn't even acknowledging that he was there, like you would with a stranger.

This was not how he wanted to start their adventure, there was nowhere for either of them to go, they were stuck together for the next 3 days travelling and once they arrived there wouldn't be anywhere for them to cool off. This needed to be sorted. And sorted now. Cal groaned, it was entirely too early for this, and entirely too early to admit that he was wrong.

He caught the eye of the air host and ordered a coffee, hoping by the time he finished it he had a bit more confidence to try and rebuild burnt bridges.

* * *

Gillian was furious. Cal had blamed her for everything that had gone wrong this morning. As if it was her fault that he hadn't woken up until her fourth attempt, as if it was her fault that he'd said his was ready to go but actually had 45 minutes of packing left, as if it was her fault that they had to piss off security and run the length of the terminal in order to make their flight. And now he was wallowing in self-loathing and anger. It was a horrible cloud that hung over the both them no matter how much Gillian tried to ignore him.

This was not how she wanted to start their time as business partners, she was stuck with this angry man for the next 3 days, in close quarters, when all she wanted was her own bed; which, due to the thundercloud sitting next to her, she didn't even have or even her own space. They'd been in the air less than an hour and she already regretted it. This better not be the fashion that he wished to continue in. She had absolutely no intention to reach out to Cal, they had at least 7 hours before they would swapped planes, and childish as it may seem, Gill was happy to sit in angry silence and try and sleep. She just hoped Cal was the same.

Unfortunately, he wasn't.

It took him three hours, but he finally worked up the courage to reach out to Gillian.

"Hey Foster," his voice was low, quiet and soft, like he was scared. She ignored him.

"Gillian, luv, I know you're angry. You have every right to be. I've been a prat all morning and I had no right. I just…" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry and this isn't how I wanted our partnership to start."

She still wasn't looking at him; she could feel his eyes roam over her face to see if there was any hint that she'd heard him.

"Look, Gill, what do you want from me? I thought we agreed no lies between us." He sounded desperate and she finally turned to look at him, despair etched deep into his face, as if he couldn't figure out how they'd started this badly. Surely this was supposed to happen around month three not hour three.

"Cal, shut up. We're fine."

Clearly, by the facial expression he wore he didn't believe her frankly she couldn't blame him.

"You're not the only one who had a crappy morning, but I didn't get the luxury of taking it out on another human being." She hissed

"I know, luv. I'm really sorry. I can't say it enough, and I know we're not really going to have any time apart for a while so I wanted to get that cleared up."

"Yes, Cal. I know. We'll be fine," she managed a small smile this time, but her eyes had softened a bit and he could tell he was on his way to being forgiven. Maybe when they had landed and were awaiting their transfer he could get her to smile.

"Alright, luv. I'll leave you to it." He was most surprised by the distance that seemed to have sprung up between them. Normally they were always invading each other's space, be it in the kitchen or living room, but on the plane, where they arguably had the most excuse to be close she was keeping miles of space between them.

Seemingly reading his mind, Gill reached over and grabbed his arm "Cal," her voiced had soften and had gained some of its normal warmth, "we'll be fine. Just let's calm down, get some sleep and talk again when we're both not crabby."

He couldn't help but to mirror her warmth "Yeah, OK, that sounds good to me."

**TBC**

**Next up... Welcome to the Jungle...**


End file.
